


Cabin Fever

by quietrook



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, Summer Camp AU, everyone is cute hooray, gon is trans, killu has bad anxiety and is bpd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9293477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietrook/pseuds/quietrook
Summary: Killua is sent to summer camp as a punishment, but it may be the best time of his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [transkurapika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/transkurapika/gifts).



> sdfnsodfn this is a year old and i will never finish it more than likely

It's hot as soon as I step off the bus. The heat hits me in a wave, smothering me, and I can feel my hair wilt like a flower. I take that final step down into the dirt and I glower at everything in sight. The tall trees; the distant lake; the wooden cabins; and, more than anything, I glower at the individual approaching from said cabins. At least he's tall and blocks out the sun a little. I cross my arms, and fix the scowl firmly on my face as he comes to stand in front of me. 

"Hey, there! You must be our newest camper. I'm one of the counselors here, Leorio; want a brief tour of the camp?"

He waits for me to respond, his grin holding up and his ridiculous hair unwaveringly spiky, for so long that finally I shrug at him.

"I guess," I say quietly. I shove my hands in my pockets, kick the dirt with my foot. "Let's get this over with."

A lot of kids go to summer camp. Not a lot are sent as a punishment, like me. The thing about my family is that they have a very strict system of rules and boundaries. I hate them. And they probably hate me. Being sent to the middle of nowhere to suffer in the heat without any kind of modern technology and, most of all, with the company of other people -- that's the worst punishment they could have thought up for disobeying them repeatedly. And it’s definitely more than enough. The obviously falsified cheeriness of this counselor - Leorio, I briefly remember - is, on its own, enough to make me want to kick something really hard.

I ooh at the forest trail, and ahh at the oversized lake, and feign interest in the craft hall and the mess hall. Finally, we reach the starting point again.

“And this is the cabin you’ll be in, with three other--”

“Great, thanks for the tour, I’ll figure it out from here,” I interrupt him, and I grab my bag and lug it straight into the cabin without another word. I close the door quickly and lean against it, sighing, before I realize I’m not alone. Right. He did say three other. Three other boys, apparently.

They look at me, frozen in what looks like their daily routine. One boy, shorter than the others, stands in the doorway of what I guess is the bathroom, holding a toothbrush. The tallest of the three is frozen in the action of pulling on boots. My eyes take all this in as I silently glance over the room, and they finally come to rest on the third boy -- and it is my turn to freeze. He’s the only one who hasn’t frozen at all; he sits up in his bottom bunk, rubs his eyes as he yawns. His hair is spiky, too, like the counselor’s -- but somehow fresher, more fitting. His face is round and he stretches and I fall in love.

He finally opens his eyes, sees me staring at him, and grins widely at me with too bright teeth.

Oh, no. This is bad.

“Hi,” he says, and clambers out of his bed. He’s lean, in a pair of shorts and a tight tank top, and I am suddenly so glad I’ve become an expert at hiding my emotions. “Are you gonna bunk with us now?”

“Uh.. yeah, I guess so,” I reply, glancing for a second at the other two. Short one has returned to brushing his teeth but is watching me through the mirror, too obviously. Taller one is ignoring me now, lacing his boots up. His face is hidden, but I can tell he’s putting off an air of authority, or attempting to.

“Great!” Bestill my heart, that grin comes again. He runs over and sticks out his hand for me to shake. “My name is Gon!”

I shake it firmly, noting how warm it is, and how strong his grip is.

“I’m Killua.” I let go and wipe my suddenly sweaty hands on the outside of my shorts and gesture towards my bag. “What should I do with this?”

“You can set it on the bunk above Gon’s,” the taller one says, standing and smiling. “Pokkle. I’m the head of our cabin. The little one is Zushi.”

“I’m not that little,” the muffled words come from the bathroom before a spit, rinse, and appearance of someone who is definitely little. His eyebrows look intensely like they can’t decide if I am an interest or a danger, but he is smiling.

I’m not good in social situations. The more people you add to the mix, the more anxious and uncomfortable I feel, but I force a smile on my face, and nod in what I hope is an acceptable manner.

This is bad. They’re going to hate me. I’m not like them. This isn’t going to go well at all I can’t do this I can’t what if they notice what if they know? They’re going to find out and I can’t do this if I go now I can probably catch the bus still and even if I don’t I know the way I can walk but I can’t stay with them they’re normal they’re not going to --

“Hey,” a voice interrupts, and I realize I was gripping my bag by the straps so tightly my hand hurts. My skin itches; I want to scratch it, I want to do something.

I meet Gon’s eyes, wondering if I look terrified. I can tell Pokkle and Zushi are staring, but I just look at him instead. Shake. Swallow. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare fucking cry, Killua. Grow up, already.

“It’s okay,” Gon assures me, and smiles again. He gently takes my bag from my hand. “We’re gonna be friends, I can already tell. Here.” He sets my bag on the bunk above his and rummages around in his own sheets before finding a t-shirt. He tugs it on over his head and comes back to me.

“Have you seen the camp yet? I can show you around if you want.”

I don’t want to tell him I already have; he seems really excited about showing me, and I think.. I’d actually like to go with him. I offer him a small smile, for real this time, and shake my head.

“That would be really great.” 

Unexpectedly, he grabs my hand and tugs me out the door. I nearly trip; he’s stronger than I would have thought. I smile again, feeling the warmth from his hand spreading to mine. 

“Be back by six!” Pokkle calls and Gon laughs.

He slows down as we reach the path and turns to me, lets go of my hand, rubs the back of his neck.

“I got excited,” he says sheepishly. 

“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I don’t mind. What’s at six?”

“It’s dinner,” he says simply, and takes my hand again. “So where should we go first?”

“Shouldn’t I ask you that?”

“Oh, right! Um…” As he thinks, I can almost see the wheels turning in his head. I can tell he’s a little air-headed, but it makes him seem even cuter. I cough after watching him for a moment, and he looks at me, stopping in his thought process.

“Maybe you could show me the lake?” I suggest, and he grins.

“Yeah! The lake is really great here.”

He keeps his hand in mine as he leads me down to the lake, and I feel warm. It’s stupid, I know, but he’s cute, and he’s nice, and maybe we could be friends despite what my head is telling me over and over. He doesn’t have to know how I really am. He doesn’t have to know how awful I am. Maybe it will be fine and this summer won’t be so bad.

And I honestly think that, honestly feel optimistic about all of this until we get down to the lake. That’s when I realize, that’s when I remember, that I’m fucking shit.

Of course there are a lot of people at the lake, a lot of campers. It’s around two, it’s pretty hot, and the lake is probably really beautiful if it weren’t filled to the brim with this many people. People I can’t handle. People I don’t know. I swallow, try to fight the anxiety, try to shove it back down my throat where it wants to bubble out like vomit. Not here, not now, I can’t do it I can’t I might have a friend I can’t fuck it up I can’t --

“Killua?” Gon’s concerned face wavers into view, eyes wide, brows furrowed in concern. I realize I’m squeezing his hand tight, too tight, and I let go immediately, only to latch onto my own arm and grip it, vice-like. My nails are digging into my skin.

“Sorry,” I try to laugh, but my voice sounds shaky, even to my own ears. His concern deepens, and all I can think is fuck, I’ve already started bothering him with useless shit like this. Not ten minutes in and I’m out. He knows I’m a fucking wreck.

“It’s fine,” I repeat, plastering a smile on my face. I cross my arms tightly across my chest and begin to take small steps down to the lake. Don’t think about the people. Don’t think about all the people and all the noise and all the bodies close together just -- breathe breathe breathe breathe

I’m only vaguely aware I’m breathing too hard, too fast. I just want things to be okay for one second I just want to have a friend I have to do this I have to I have to be okay.

I reach the pier, and I physically can’t move. My eyes water and I get so pissed because I can’t fucking believe I’m already wearing thin. I haven’t been here longer than an hour and I’m already fucking breaking. Mom really knew what to do to punish me, didn’t she? Just another reminder that I’m a bad child, that I’m a mess, that I’m a screw up. 

I try to force my body to move, but it’s shut down. I can’t. I look at all these people, normal people, smiling, laughing, talking, all of them, and I can’t. I close my eyes tightly, but the first tear escapes and I can’t stop the rest. I clutch my arms even tighter around my body, willing myself to be invisible, to stop this fucking idiocy, and all I do is cry harder. Stupid, fucking stupid worthless shit. I can’t even control my own fucking emotions. Fucking crying. Stupid. Stupid stupid.

“Stupid…” I force through my teeth. I shake. 

And then I feel something coiling around my waist; warm and strong, arms curling themselves around me. A body pressed against mine, a face leaning on my shoulder. I open one eye, blink away the continuing tears. Gon is hugging me. He squeezes once, hard, and pulls back just a little to look at me.

He smiles. Why is he smiling at me? That’s not what you should do when you see trash. Not at all what you should do. I almost want to tell him he’s an idiot, but I don’t think I could get the words out. After that, he lets go, but doesn’t back away. I close my eyes again, try to control my breathing, try to calm down, but all I can think is why the fuck is he smiling at me is he mocking me I don’t what the fuck

“Hey,” he says quietly, firmly. Eyes squeezed shut, I don’t acknowledge the sound. I only barely hear it over my head, anyway.

I feel jittery. I scratch my arm without even thinking about it, just trying to get rid of all of the anxious energy inside my stomach.

“Hey,” he repeats. “Killua. Look at me, okay?”

I force my eyes open, even though I know I’m disgusting and crying still, because his voice is soft. His eyes are warm. Why are they warm? 

“Listen,” he says. “It’s going to be okay. Can I --” 

He gestures to my hand, like he wants to hold it again. I stare at him blankly for a second before I slowly loosen my grip on myself, pull my arm away from my body, hold my hand out. Unsure. Afraid. Still can’t breathe. What is he doing. 

Without losing eye contact, without losing that same smile that doesn’t make sense, he takes my hand. 

“Let’s go,” he says, and begins to move again. Away from the pier. Away from all of those people.

I let myself be tugged, eyes wide still, crying still, confused, shaking, to the edge of the trees. And then inside the trail, where we walk for a little while, and then off the trail for just a little bit, and then there is a clearing, tree stumps, empty. No one here. He lets go, sits on a tree stump, and smiles again.

“I was going to show you this place last because it’s my favorite, but I think you could use it now. I come here a lot to get away from everyone else.”

 

I stand, unsure of what to do. He saw me cry. He saw me break down. We just met. What is he doing.

“I still have a hard time getting used to it, too,” he says, picking up a stick from the ground. “Where I’m from, there aren’t a lot of people, and we all know each other.” He tosses the stick back on the ground and looks at me, faint smile.

“I understand. I didn’t realize -- I’m sorry.”

That’s what breaks me out of my state. 

“What?” I ask, my voice cracking. “Don’t be stupid. You don’t have to apologize for anything. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

He grins toothily. “I am stupid. I’m sorry, Killua.” 

I don’t know what to make of that, so I just shrug and look away. The longer I spend in this clearing with this guy, the better I feel. My heart rate calms down. My stomach stops trying to claw its way up my throat. I look down at the scratches in my arm, and feel stupid. Embarrassed, for reacting that way. I close my eyes. Breathe in the air. The earthy smell, different from the smell of the mountain where I came from. It’s cooler here, and the breeze touches my cheek. I breathe in. A few seconds. Breathe out. Open my eyes.

Gon is sitting cross-legged on the tree stump, watching me. His cheeks flush slightly, but he smiles.

“See? It’s okay. This place is safe.” He sways a little, back and forth. “Whenever you feel bad, come find me, and we can come here.”

I can’t help staring. I still don’t understand this, don’t understand why he’s being so nice, but I eventually nod. If I learned anything, it’s that when something good does actually happen, you have to accept it before it goes away. We stay there for a little while longer, just sitting, just quiet. And then I stand up straight, stretch, and speak.

“So what else can you show me?”

He grins, and stands. I take his hand this time, but I feel my face warm. I can’t stop it; I just hope he doesn’t know. I don’t want to ruin what could be my first real friendship in years by being really gay and making him uncomfortable.

“This way!”

He steers clear of the lake, this time, though I think I might have been okay with him. He shows me the crafts hall - a wooden palisade with picnic tables and benches; there are some kids there, but not a lot -; the mess hall, which is empty right now; the lake, from a lesser known entrance - it really is amazing -; and we end up back by the woods. 

“There’s a trail that starts here and goes up, back, and around to another starting point,” Gon says, pointing out a path I can glimpse through the trees. “It’s about 1.5 miles. It’s the shortest trail here. Then there’s another one that connects to this one, leads around a long way, and then ends in the same place.”

He turns to me, wide smile, the excitement of a kid in his eyes.

“That one’s around 3 miles. It’s my favorite.” He stretches, his arms lengthening above his head for forever. His shirt lifts, revealing a small bit of uncovered stomach skin. I watch the shirt slide back down, swallowing.

This is going to be harder than I thought. 

“Wanna go down?” He asks, and I blink for a second.

“I-- what?” My chest suddenly feels tight, and not from anxiety. I got distracted, and now I can only hear what he just said echoing in my ears. I don’t have a lot of experience with people, but I know enough from Milluki and his dirty shows and fanfiction to have a lot more knowledge than I should, and I can’t speak. 

“Down the trail,” he specifies, looking at me strangely. “Are you okay, Killua? We can go back to the quiet place, if you want.”

Shit, he’ll find out before I have time to get a night’s rest at this rate.

“No, no, I’m fine,” I lie. “That sounds fine.” 

After an unsure look like he doesn’t believe me, he shrugs, and, hands clasped, we walk in together.

Aside from the birds, the crunching of the twigs under our feet, and the sound of a creek nearby, I can hear Gon’s heavy breathing as we hike and my own heart beating in my ears, too fast. This is an unfamiliar feeling. I know what it is, of course, but feeling it is an entirely different thing. Feeling it for the first time. I glance at Gon anxiously, wonder if he can tell, but he’s entirely focused on absorbing the nature. It’s cute. It’s confusing. And it’s -- no. This can’t be happening. I’ve gone sixteen years without this problem there is no way this can be happening. But it is.

Holy fuck, I’m turned on.

I spend the rest of the three miles grateful that Gon is so absorbed, wishing it would go away, wishing I could do something. I watch as he points out things along the trail with an enthusiasm I can’t help but find charming, and I point out things I see that I think are cool. (For example, there was a really cool snake slithering around in there.) I try not to look at him being excited because I’m excited, too. Just in a different way. When we finally come out at the other end, I turn to him and smile. Fatal attraction aside, that was a lot of fun. At the very least, I was able to channel the remainder of my restless energy into trying to keep pace with Gon. He must walk trails like these all the time. It would explain how lean and well-muscled his legs are. And there it is again. I guess there’s only so much you can do to control your emotions when your body has a mind of its own.

Gon squints past the trees, looking for the sun.

“We should head back to the cabin now,” he says. “It’s getting close to six, and Pokkle doesn’t like to be late. If you’re late for dinner you get the bad tables.”

Hand in hand, we trudge back to the cabin, and I focus on being calm. Look at all those people. Oh, how calm. Zushi grins at me as we come back, so I guess I’m not bad. It’s only a little past five, and Pokkle demands Gon shower - I didn’t even realize we were sweating, honestly -, so as I wait, I have plenty of time to make acquaintances with my other cabin-mates. I swallow, wonde  
ring what I’m supposed to talk about, but it’s not as hard as I think it’ll be. I ask Zushi one question, a question I can’t even remember afterwards, and he somehow ends up showing me all the karate moves he knows. I actually laugh; he’s really good at it, and he looks so excited to tell me about it that I end up enjoying my time. By the time Gon comes back, I already feel a little settled in with Pokkle and Zushi; I think it’ll be okay, maybe.

And then it’s off to the showers with me, too. The water seems to wash away the sticky sheen of uncertainty, and when I step out of the shower, I feel like I’m stepping into a place where maybe things could be alright.

When I get out, Gon takes my hand so fast I can scarcely towel my hair so it isn’t a dripping mess.

“We’re gonna be late,” he chastises, tugging on me so I can barely get my flip flops on.

“You’re the one who had to take so long in the shower,” I tell him, because it’s true, and he grins sheepishly.

“Either way, stop dallying and let’s go,” Pokkle says authoritatively, and we all dutifully trudge off to the mess hall.

I try not to choke on the lump of hard anxiety in my throat when I see how many people are here. Perhaps Gon was thinking the same thing, because he squeezes my hand. When I look over at him, he grins widely and I notice for the first time that day - can I help it if his smile is too dazzling - I notice he’s missing a couple of teeth. I give him the smallest of nervous smiles back, and we go in.


End file.
